Lord of the Things
by Blue Raja
Summary: (PG-13 for cursing) What happens when you mix LotR with Monty Python, Star Wars, and sugar? Mix well and RR!
1. The One Bead of Power

"THE LORD OF THE THINGS"

(previously known as "Lord of the Stars.")

  
By Blue Raja (previously known as Speed of Dark until that e-mail address up and died on me)

PG-13 Beware of uncharacteristic "swearing". Uncharacteristic of the characters and of myself.

Disclaimer: I don't own anybody, not even myself. Which would explain my lack of constraint and consideration when stealing other people's characters. Sorry to J.R.R. Tolkein and George Lucas and Monty Python, whomever they belong to.

  
CHAPTER ONE: The One Bead of Power

  
A LONG, LONG TIME AGO, on a world that might be our very own, there lived a hobbit. For those of you that don't know what a hobbit is, it is a very short person with hairy feet. The hobbit that lived a long, long time ago lived in a hobbit hole in a little place called Hobbiton, which was in the Shire, which was in Middle-Earth.   
Not very complicated, once you get down to it.  
Anyway, this hobbit's name was Frodo Bagginswalker. He was quite a normal hobbit, and he had inherited his hobbit hole from his uncle, Bilbo Bagginswalker. But that wasn't all he had inherited.  
Hidden in a box in the hole in Hobbiton, in the Shire, in Middle-Earth, there was a small golden bead on a piece of string.  
It was for this bead that Obi-Wan-Gandalf the Jedi came.  
Frodo had been sitting in front of his warm hobbit fire when the knock came on his door.   
"What the hell? Who could that be?" he asked himself. He was shocked to see Obi-Wan-Gandalf on his rather small doorstep in Hobbiton, in the Shire, in Middle-Earth. "Wandalf!" the hobbit cheered as the Jedi ducked into the hole.  
"It's GANDALF, Frodo, GANDALF." Obi-Wan corrected.  
"Oh, right. GANDALF." Frodo nodded. Jedis were pretty picky about pronunciations sometimes.   
Obi-Wandalf…  
"GANDALF!"  
Sorry.  
…Obi-Wan-GANDALF smiled down at his hobbit friend. "Do you still have it?" he asked in a "You-oughta-know" voice.  
"Have what?" Frodo asked in a "What-the-hell-are-you-talking-about?" voice.  
Gandalf rolled his eyes. "The bead, the BEAD!" he shouted.  
"Bead?" Frodo asked, still using his "What-the-hell-are-you-talking-about?" voice.   
"The golden bead your uncle Bilbo left you!"  
"Oh, you mean that stupid little thing on a string? What about it?"  
"Where is it?"  
"How am I supposed to know? It's a freaking bead!"  
"It was on a string…" Gandalf muttered bleakly as Frodo gave him an odd look. "String is supposed to keep everything in order! How can you not know where it is?"  
"Oh, wait!" Frodo exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "I might have vacuumed it up! I'll go get the vacuum. Be right back!" Frodo scampered off to parts of the hole unknown to anyone but himself. Gandalf eased himself into a chair and waited impatiently for the young hobbit to come back with the bead.  
"Here it is!" Frodo announced as he returned. He was carrying a heavy looking bag covered in dust and lint.  
"Frodo, dammit, that is not a bead." Gandalf slapped his forehead.  
Frodo dropped the bag onto the floor and cracked his knuckles. "I know that! It's somewhere in there." He opened the bag, releasing a cloud of dust and dirt. "All we have to do is find it…"  
  
HOURS LATER…  
"…is this it?"  
"No."  
"…is THIS it?"  
"NO."  
"Oh, wait! Is THIS it?"  
"NO!!"  
Frodo looked exasperated and confused. "Then what the hell is this?" he asked, holding up the linty ball he had just found. He and Obi-Wan-Gandalf were sitting in a pile of dirt, dust, fur, lint, rocks, crumbs, and other random objects. Frodo was slightly gray from the heavy coating of dust that had settled on him. Gandalf, who was gray to begin with, was… still gray.  
"Okay, it's not here. That's great." Gandalf threw down a handful of dust in frustration. A cloud of junk lifted into the air and settled quickly. "That's just WONDERFUL." He looked meaningfully at Frodo. "You know that thing is dangerous, right?"  
"Hmm, dangerous?" Frodo asked, having not been paying attention.  
"Yes, dangerous, with a capital D-A-N-G-E-R-O-U-S. The dark lord Darth Sauron wants it to finish his evil necklace. He'll stop at nothing to get that bead, Frodo. We need to destroy it before he can get it! Do you understand me?"  
"Hmmm? Oh, I lost you back at A-N-G-E-R."   
Gandalf groaned as Frodo continued rummaging through his vacuum's contents.   
"Check it out! It's that sock I lost last week!" Frodo held up a gray tube of cloth.  
"Frodo, hobbits don't wear socks."  
"Oh. I guess it could be a spoon cozy, then."  
"A spoon cozy?"  
"Sure, why not? Tea gets a cozy, why shouldn't a spoon?"  
Gandalf didn't try to argue with the hobbit's logic.  
"I'll just put this away real quick." Frodo said, hopping to his feet and opening a large box that was in the corner of the room. He folded the spoon cozy gently and tucked it under some napkins. He suddenly stopped, snatched something out of the box, and whirled towards Gandalf, a huge smile on his face.  
"Oh, what now?" Gandalf asked, rubbing at a headache he was getting.  
"Guess what I found!"   
"You know I hate these games, Frodo."  
"You've got to guess."  
"Eaugh. Fine. Um… a matching fork cozy?" Frodo shook his head. "Uh… Samwise Solo?"   
"Nope." Frodo was still grinning. There was a thump from the box behind him.  
"I give, what is it?"  
"TAH-DAH!" Frodo held out a fist, and from it dangled a thin string, and from the string, a small golden bead sparkled.  
Gandalf's eyes widened. "You found it!!" he exclaimed. "Now we can go destroy it in the fires in which it was forged and rid Middle-Earth of the most disgustingly evil piece of jewelry since the 'Bonnie Bell LipSmackers' necklace!  
"Going too fast for me again, Wandalf." Frodo said, looking slightly dizzy.  
"We can go toss in a big pit of really hot red stuff and watch it melt." Gandalf offered.  
"OOH, cool! Can I go?" Frodo started to bounce around the room.  
"I did say, 'we', didn't I?"  
"I wanna go too!" a voice called from inside the box. Frodo and Gandalf suddenly went quiet. Gandalf tiptoed to the box and lifted the lid slightly.  
"PLEEEAS—OW!" Something rose in the box and promptly had the lid dropped on its head.  
"SAM!" Frodo exclaimed, recognizing his loyal chauffer. "What the hell are you doing in there?"  
"Errrr… dusting?" Sam smiled meekly at the tall Jedi and short hobbit that were glaring at him.  
"How much of our conversation did you hear?" Gandalf asked.  
"Oh, you were having a conversation? I didn't hear you…"  
"What's this?" Frodo asked, pulling a tape recorder out of the box.  
"My duster!" blurted Sam, snatching back the recorder.  
"Really… hmmm…" Gandalf eyed the spying hobbit. "You have an X-ring, don't you?"  
Sam nodded slowly, climbing out of the box. "Yeah, why?"  
Frodo looked startled. "Hey! All I have is a lousy pony! Where'd you get enough money to buy an X-ring?"   
Sam's eyes darted to a safe imbedded in the wall. Its door was slightly ajar. "I… worked real hard." He responded.  
"Uh, huh." Gandalf mused. After a long moment, he held out a hand towards Sam. "Give me your keys."  
"Huh, WHAT?" Sam exclaimed.  
Gandalf shook his hand. "Your keys. We're borrowing your X-ring."  
"No you're not!" Sam cried, hugging his keys to his chest.  
"Give me the keys or I'll turn you into a wraith!" Gandalf threatened.  
"Oh, fine." Sam handed over the keys reluctantly. "But I'm going with you."  
"No you're not, we're going alone. You stay here and make sure no one takes anything." Frodo commanded.  
"I'm going."  
"You're staying here."  
"I'm going."  
"You're staying here."  
"Okay, I'm staying here."  
"And don't let anyone take anything."  
"Right, so I go with you and no-one'll take anything."  
"No, you stay here and make sure that no-one takes anything."  
"No-one takes everything. They're allowed to take anything they want as long as they leave something."  
"No, no, no! You stay here. And make sure. That NO-ONE takes ANYTHING."  
"So I wait for a guy named Norman to come take anything?"  
Frodo sighed. "Come on, then."  
"Yaaaay! Do we get to see elves?" Sam asked.  
"Don't count on it." Gandalf said gruffly. "We'd better leave before those dang Wraith-Troopers get here."  
"Right." Sam and Frodo said in unison.  
The three left the hobbit hole and headed out to Sam's X-ring.


	2. The Force Crash Course

CHAPTER TWO: The Force Crash Course

"Wow, that is one big X-ring" Frodo said in awe. He, Sam, and Gandalf were standing in front of Sam's X-ring, "The Millipede Shall Come".  
Sam stealthily twisted off the gas cap of the flying contraption and let gas pour out onto the ground.  
Frodo climbed into the Millipede Shall Come and sat in the driver's seat.  
"Dude! This thing can go pretty high, can't it?" he asked.  
"You can go pretty high…" Sam muttered under his breath as he twisted the gas cap back onto the gas tank of his machine.  
"Wheeee!" Frodo squealed, pretending to fly the X-ring.   
"What have I gotten myself into?" Gandalf muttered. Sam trotted up to him and pretended to scrutinize the ship.   
"Hmm… lemme check something." Sam climbed up to the cockpit and squeezed in by Frodo, who simply twisted the control bar and let out a long yodel. "It appears we're out of gas." Sam said in false surprise. "Looks like we're not going anywhere."  
"Aww!" Frodo whined.  
Gandalf smiled at Sam, a knowing twinkle in his eye.   
"Ow, geez." Gandalf muttered, rubbing his eye. "I got another one of those damn twinkles… Ah, there. Like I was saying, we don't need gas, Samwise Solo." He raised one of his really thick eyebrows. "We can just use the Porsche."  
"Ooh!" Frodo exclaimed, suddenly over the fact that he wouldn't be flying anytime soon. "A Porsche! Now that's cool!"  
"I mean the FORCE!" Gandalf shook his head. "I'm getting too old for this. We'll use the force!"  
"There you go with that WE stuff again." Sam complained, slumping down in his seat.  
"Now, then." Gandalf crawled into the X-ring and squeezed into the cockpit next to Sam and Frodo. "You could've sprung for the family size, Sam."  
"I didn't know I was going to be seating a whole fellowship!" Sam pointed out. "Besides, I like the sporty red paint job."  
"Nice touch." Frodo piped up.  
"Right, so I'll use the force." Gandalf squeezed his eyes shut and used the force. I don't know how he does that, so we'll just have to assume he did it in whatever way one uses the force.  
The X-wing lifted slightly off the ground, zipped forward a few feet, stopped, then landed. Gandalf opened one of his eyes and glanced down at the ground. "Dammit, this is going to take a while."  
  
SEVERAL HOURS LATER…  
The X-ring zipped forward a few feet and landed.  
"S'about time!" Frodo complained, yawning mightily.  
"You guys stay here, I'll get it." Sam said, crawling out of the cockpit. He had decided several hours ago that there was only one thing to do, and that was to go along with the crazy old guy's idea of fun.  
He rang the bell next to the pump and waited for the gas station's present occupant to come out and help him.  
Two bumbling young hobbits scrambled out of the grubby 7-11 and gaped.   
"Ooh, pretty!" one exclaimed. The oil-stained patch on his blue overcoat said "Pippin" in big, bold letters.  
"Yeah! And I bet it gets good gas mileage, too!" the other added. His nametag said "Merry".  
"Fill 'er up." Sam said dismissively.  
Merry and Pippin nodded, still staring at the magnificent machine parked at their gas station. Pippin pumped gas into the tank while Merry cleaned the X-ring's bulbous windshield. He wiped a clean arc into the grimy glass and gaped. "Hey, Frodo!"  
Pippin glanced up from his job, gas pouring onto his bare foot. "Frodo?"  
Merry ignored Pippin and pounded on the glass. "Hey, Frodo! Where'd you get this awesome ride?" he asked.   
Frodo rolled his eyes. "It's Sam's." he responded.  
"Whoa. I want to be your chauffer!" Merry exclaimed.  
Pippin tugged at Sam's sleeve. "What?" Sam snapped.  
"Can I go with you?"  
"WHAT?"  
"Can I go with you?"  
"No, I heard you the first time."  
"Then why'd you say Wh—"  
"Out of disbelief, Pippin. Look at you! You're grimy and oily and—Eaugh—just plain nasty."  
"Aw, come one Sam… buddy ol' pal…" Pippin begged.  
Sam tried not to look at Pippin's puppy dog eyes but finally collapsed. "Oh, fine! Geez."  
"Whee-ha!" Pippin climbed into the back seat of the X-ring.  
Gandalf turned halfway in his seat. "This thing has a backseat? Why didn't anyone tell me?"  
Merry clambered into the seat and sat next to Pippin, bouncing happily on the leather upholstery.  
"Who said you were coming?" Sam asked irritably.  
"Where Pippin goes, I go!" Merry stated resolutely.  
Sam sighed. "Gar. Okay, fine. But let's get a few things straight.  
"One: This is MY SHIP. Therefore, only MY RULES apply."  
Merry and Pippin nodded.  
"Two: If anyone needs to 'go', go now, because I'm not stopping for anyone."  
Frodo, Gandalf, Pippin, and Merry slipped out of the X-ring and formed a line in front of the bathroom door. Sam continued his list while they were gone, and those rules were lost forever.  
  


The X-ring soared over the clouds and flew over tall trees. Sam piloted the X-ring carefully, having no room for his elbows in the cramped quarters that was the cockpit. For an X-ring, the quartet was going slowly. They had dropped Obi-Wan-Gandalf off by the Quai-gon building, where he had gone to talk to his teacher, Yodaman the White.  
The X-ring skipped over a deep valley, where a man dressed in yellow was dancing around a tree in what seemed to be fury.   
"Hey, what's up with him?" Pippin asked, pointing down at the man.  
"Oh, that's Tom Bombadil. He's ticked off because he got cut out of the script." Frodo peered out the window at the man. "Pity we won't be seeing Goldberry. She's hot."  
"Are we just skipping over the Barrow-Downs?" Merry asked.  
"Yeah, so?" Sam grumbled.  
"Oh. Okay. That place gives me the creeps anyway." Merry settled back into his seat and tried to fall asleep.  
Something still troubled Pippin, though. "Where are we supposed to get our swords?"  
"Oh, yeah!" Frodo searched through his pack and retrieved four silver rods.  
"Oh, that sure looks like it'll help against Imperial Wraith-Troopers." Pippin rolled his eyes.  
Frodo whacked him over the head with one of the rods. "You idiot, these are light sabers. They glow when dorks are near."  
"You mean orcs, right?" Pippin asked as Frodo passed out the sabers.  
"No, I mean dorks. Hey, looks like yours is glowing already."  
The three older hobbits laughed while Pippin tried to figure out whether or not he had been the butt of a joke. His saber was glowing, however.  
Their laugh was cut short as lasers shot by them.  
"Umm…" Frodo raised his eyebrows.   
"I know, I know… go!" the Millipede Shall Come sped forward at an amazing speed and left the Black Pie Fighters behind.  
"That was close!" Frodo remarked.  
"Oh, dang." Sam muttered.  
"Yeah, that was really close." Frodo reiterated.  
"No, I mean, 'Oh, dang, we're out of gas again'"  
"OH DANG!" The four hobbits exclaimed in unison.  
The X-ring started to spin towards the ground.   
"OH DANG!" They exclaimed again.  
"Where's the Porsche when you need it?" Frodo screamed.  
"Huh?" Merry and Pippin asked.  
They crashed.  
"Good thing this swamp was here, huh?" Pippin grinned.  
Sam crawled out of his wreck of an X-ring. "Dammit! This thing isn't insured!"  
Merry dusted himself off and pointed into the distance. "Hey, isn't that Brie? We're supposed to meet Obi-Wan-Gandalf there!"  
"Right. I guess we'll have to walk."  
"My X-ring!" Sam cried.  
The muddy swamp burped once, and the ship sank below its surface.  
"Dang." Sam muttered.  
The four hobbits wearily continued on to Brie.


	3. Treason at The QuaiGon Building

CHAPTER THREE: Treason at The Quai-Gon 

MEANWHILE...  
"Come in do, Obi-Wan-Gandalf." Yodaman the short and green said. He stood on the porch to his huge castle-like apartment building, looking down at Gandalf from the topmost step leading to the door. "Waiting for you I have been, come in you must."  
Gandalf nodded politely to the shorter jedi as he went in. The hallway was huge and cavernous, with walls that reached forever towards the sky and gigantic torches casting flickering lights onto the marble floor. The two jedis walked slowly down the hall, as it was custom for jedis to walk slowly when in the company of other jedis, so as to not embarrass each other by being faster.  
After a few silent hours walking down the hall, they reached Yodaman's apartment and home office.  
"Cookies would you like?" Yodaman asked, heading off towards his kitchenette as Gandalf made himself comfortable.  
"Cookies?" Gandalf asked.  
"Made them I did, Chocolate chip they are. Try them you would?" Yodaman's voice floated in through the door.  
"Um... sure. I guess it never hurts to try."  
Yodaman returned, a plate of warm cookies in his begloved hands. He was wearing an apron that said, "The cook you kiss" in pink letters.  
Gandalf froze, his mouth dropping open in surprise.  
"What?" Yodaman asked. He nudged a ball off the table and placed the plate in its spot.  
"Err... nothing, nothing." Gandalf reached for a cookie, forcing a smile. "Oh, these are good." He said upon tasting the cookie.  
"New recipe they are." Yodaman grinned.  
"Where'd you get it?" Gandalf asked, reaching for another cookie.  
"Know you Darth Sauron whom east over mountains lives?"   
Gandalf choked on his cookie. "Darth Sauron?" he coughed. "When did you manage to trade cookie recipes with Darth Sauron?"  
"To tupperware party was I invited. Met him there I did. Nice palantir I did buy." Yodaman picked up the ball that he had nudged onto the floor. "See?"  
Gandalf choked on his cookie again.  
  
MEANWHILE...  
"Okay, where's the Inn of the Three Little Pigs?" Frodo asked, tripping over the oversized map that he was holding.  
Merry peered over Frodo's shoulder. "This is Brie, not Lothlorien."  
"Oh." Frodo handed Merry the map and searched through his pockets for the right one.  
Merry attempted to fold the map, then gave up and crunched it into a ball.  
Sam slapped his forehead. "Why don't you guys just ask for directions?"  
"Because we're men!" Pippin piped up.  
"No we're not, we're hobbits."  
"Good point. Excuse us, sir, but where the hell might we find the Inn of the Three Little Pigs?"  
The tall man looked down at Pippin and raised an eyebrow. He was... tall... and had a sword at his side. "Over there." He said, pointing at a large ramshackle building that leaned ominously towards the East.  
Merry leaned towards Sam and whispered, "It's only a model."  
"SHH!" The tall man warned.  
"Oh... thanks... I guess." Frodo wrinkled his nose at the building and shrugged.   
Sam grinned at Merry. "Hobbit-sized."  
The four hobbits trudged through the muddy streets of Brie and stood in front of the Inn of The Three Little Pigs. "Who was that guy?" Frodo asked Sam in whispers.  
"The King."   
"How'd you figure that?"  
"He's not covered in shit."  
"Oh."  
They pushed the door open and entered the Inn.  
  


MEANWHILE...  
"Yodaman, why? Why did you sell your soul for a cookie recipe?" Gandalf was on the wall, where he hung from his chained arms, hopelessly watching Yodaman bake batch after batch of fabulous chocolate chip cookies. Yodaman shoved another cookie into Gandalf's mouth to make him shut up. "Got Milk?"  
"Cook don't well I. Reputaion save recipe my this." Yodaman pulled another tray of cookies from his oven.  
Gandalf winced and swallowed. "Yodaman, I just don't understand you anymore."  
"I'll talk right, then."  
Gandalf gasped. "Holy COW! I can actually make out what you're saying!"  
Yodaman shrugged, waving a spatula to make the cookies unstick themselves from the pan. "Do you seriously think I'd sell my soul for ONLY a recipe? I got some speech classes, too."  
"You'll never get away with this!" Gandalf intoned, struggling against his bonds.  
Yodaman shrugged again. "Probably not. But I haven't told you why I've kept you here."  
Gandalf gulped. "You mean to say that stuffing cookies into me isn't your sole purpose?"  
Yodaman grinned. "No, that's just to fatten you up."  
Gandalf's eyes grew wide.  
Yodaman laughed. "Just kidding. No, I need you to... DO MY TAXES."  
Gandalf screamed as Yodaman laughed wickedly.


	4. Of Hobbits And The Effects of Alcohol

CHAPTER FOUR: Of Hobbits And The Effects of Alcohol

Frodo rolled the bead across the table, and cheered when it rolled into his overturned beer mug. "Alright! Another hole-in-one!"  
"You know, Frodo, that's not how you play golf." Sam chugged back another mug full of his own beer and added the empty pint to his growing collection.  
"So?"  
"Good point. Can I have another over here?" Sam called to the bartender, a rather large and lumpy looking alien of some sort.   
The bartender grumbled something in a foreign language and trudged to Sam with the beer.   
Pippin and Merry were seated across from Sam and Frodo, leaning against each other and snoring. The two gas-station attendants had had quite enough adventure for one day, and were exhausted.  
"Where's Oboe anyway?" Sam asked.  
"Obi-Wan Gandalf." Frodo corrected. He craned his neck and scanned the smoky area of the room. "Oh, I think that's him next to the juke box." Frodo grabbed the bead and made his way towards the cloaked figure next to the musical machine. "Hey, Gandalf..."  
The figure punched a number on the jukebox and strains of a song Frodo had never heard filled the air.  
"Gandalf..."  
The figure turned, flipping back the hood on it's cloak to reveal the tall man from the streets. His thick black hair was now greased back in a wave-like manner, and Frodo could see the collar of a rhinestone-covered white suit underneath the brown and dusty cloth. "Sorry, kid, I'm not Gandalf... aren't you a bit young to be in here?"  
"I'm fifty!"  
The man pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows. "Really. Awfully short, aren't you?"  
"I'm a hobbit!"  
"And so quick to say so, too. You know," the man placed a hand on Frodo's shoulder, "you ARE in great danger. There are many perilee... perili... perilisis... uh... dangerous things ahead of you on your journey."  
Frodo gasped. "How do you know that I'm on a journey?"  
"You look like it. Excuse me, duty calls." The man tore off his grungy cloak to reveal a white rhinestone-studded suit. He put on a pair of sunglasses, grabbed a microphone and started to sing some song about some broken hotel.   
Frodo stumbled back to Sam and cast a bewildered look at the man.  
Sam gaped. "Oh... my... GOD!" he squeaked. "He *IS* the king! All hail Elfish Pretzel!" Sam stood up, saluted, then fell over stone drunk.  
  
MEANWHILE...  
Gandalf sat among huge piles of papers, looking at receipts and filling in tax return forms. "Heh... you bought a hair removal kit? You should worry about growing *more* hair." He snickered at Yodaman's scarcely-there white hair.  
Yodaman ignored the snickering wizard and leaned back in his easy chair. He made his remote control hover over Gandalf's head, then dropped it. The channel on his huge-screen-TV changed and Yodaman grinned as his favorite show came blaring on. "Whoo-hoo! The Simpsons!"  
Gandalf rubbed at the bump that was forming on his head and threw the remote control back at Yodaman, who stopped it in mid-air and let it hover for a moment before hurtling it back at his prisoner.  
"Dammit, why don't you just get an accountant?" Gandalf asked, rubbing at his new bump.  
Yodaman grinned, eyes glued to the TV. "Then I wouldn't get to do *this*."  
The remote hit Gandalf on the head again.  
"Grrr...." Gandalf shuffled through the papers again, muttering to himself and jotting down dollar amounts on a piece of scrap paper. He glanced up in time to see Yodaman's eyelids droop as he started to drool. Slowly, he slipped out of his handcuffs and crept out of the room, all the while continuing the hypnotic spell he had cast on the TV. With any luck, he could escape before Yodaman awoke from his stupor...  
  
MEANWHILE...  
"...Trust me, you don't want to sleep in your room tonight." The tall man said. His name was actually Strider, and he was, in fact, the parlor singer for the Inn of the Three Little Pig's bar. He was a very good Elfish Pretzel impersonator.   
*SO* good, in fact, that Sam was still in shock. "It's the king... oh, migosh. Can I have your autograph?"  
"Samwise, get a hold of yourself, Elfish is dead."   
"Then who are you? HA! Trying to trick me, eh?"   
"My name is Strider, not Elfish."  
"Ooh, reeeally now. *Gasp!* You're delirious! You knocked your head on something and wandered too far from home and you had amnesia and you don't know that you're Elfish, and..."  
Frodo clamped a hand around Sam's constantly running mouth and grinned apologetically at Strider.  
Strider smiled back and shrugged. "Happens all the time... really, it does."  
Merry and Pippin trudged slowly after their friends, leaning on each other and struggling to keep their eyes open.  
"When can we go home?" Pippin asked groggily.  
"As soon as we're sober again, I reckon. Would you stop putting those damn little pink dots in front of my eyes?" Merry answered, yawning hugely as he did so.  
"As soon as you start to keep your green isosceles triangles to yourself." Pippin replied wearily.


	5. Wraith Troopers Are Definitely Stupid

CHAPTER FIVE: Wraith-Troopers Are Definitely Stupid

"Here it is!" Strider grinned and threw open the door to his suite. There was only one bed but it took up more than half of the room and was trying to invade more of it. A bureau was being pressed up against a stained-glass window by the bulging mattress.

"Dude, this is a sweet suite!" Frodo enthused, enjoying the colorful view out the window.

"Sweets!" Sam squealed, attacking a mint on Strider's pillow.

Merry and Pippin merely threw themselves onto the bed and burrowed under the sheets.

"Sheets!" Sam squealed again, hiding under them himself. After a few days of bedrolls on hard ground, all the hobbits were happy to have a cushioned rest. Frodo soon followed the other three into the bed. In no time at all, all four were fast asleep.

Strider sat on the bureau by the window and brushed the hair gel out of his hair as he watches the hobbits' original room across the street. Surely if anything were to happen, he'd be awake to protect the little men.

LATER THAT NIGHT, a loud synthetic clattering was heard. The hobbits all sprang into sitting positions in the bed, eyes wide, clinging to each other. 

"WHAT'S THAT?" Merry and Pippin screamed, terrified.

Strider was sitting, cross-legged, on the bureau, looking rather calmly out the window. "Wraith-Troopers." He intoned mysteriously.

Frodo raised an eyebrow. "Oh. Those again? That's not so mysterious." 

Strider looked a bit surprised, having thought that the name of the terrifying creatures would be new to the hobbits. "Err... you've met them?"

"Well, not personally, but I never set off on a quest without doing some research on the dangerous indigenous populace." Frodo smiled slightly.

Strider was at a loss for words. Damn, he would have liked to scare the hobbits a little bit before he told them everything. He tried again. "They used to be men, you know."

"Oh yes, but then they were tricked into accepting plastic bead necklaces that were really collars and were led over to the dark side. Now they are doomed to serve under the command of Darth Sauron."

Strider blinked. "Uh... yeah... that's right."

Frodo noted Strider's confusion. "Seriously man, you have to read a little more. They have information about all this junk down at the library."

The synthetic clanking noise—which had continued through this little interlude—suddenly stopped. The buzz of nine light sabers filled the air, causing the hobbits' hair to stand on end with static energy. Loud ripping noises followed, then the high pitched screaming and static feedback of Trooper communication devices.

"Yess!" Strider exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air. The hobbits gave him a confused stare. "I tricked them!" he explained, "I set up this little trap and they fell for it!" Then he chanted a prayer of thanks: "I'm good, I'm good, oh yeah, who's the king? Who's the master? Me! It's me!" 

The hobbits were disgusted at Strider's self-involvement.

Sam leaned towards Frodo, his eyes focused on Strider, who was happily sashaying around the room like a belly dancer. "Say... do we really have to stick with this guy?" he asked apprehensively, forgetting his drunken admiration from the night before.

"I'm afraid so, Sam." Frodo sighed. "He's the only one of us tall enough to see over bushes. Besides, I think he'll be useful later on."


	6. How To Stall For Time And Profit

Disclaimer: It's been a while since I've done one of these, so I'll renew my contract right here and now. I don't own anybody, I don't even own A body, seeing as I've been killed off for a long time. I'm not making any money except from feeding the neighbor's cats, and even then all I get is cookies. So don't blame me or sue me or anything for anything I've done. And oh yes, reviews are greatly appreciated, so thanks to everyone who has made them and left them with me. –Raja

CHAPTER SIX: How To Stall For Time And Profit

The following day yielded no sign of Gandalf. The Jedi had just disappeared into thin air, as far as the hobbits and Elfish Pretzel impersonator were concerned. Speaking of which, Strider still hadn't gotten over his victory the night before, and was still insisting that he was the coolest thing on earth since microwaveable Macaroni and Cheese.

The growing fellowship decided that they would have to go on without the Jedi, and until the time of departure they went their separate ways.

Pippin wandered into the Inn of the Three Little Pigs' gift shop and browsed through postcards for an hour before realizing he was flat broke and being kicked out of the store. Merry and Sam, in an effort to get to know each other better, went back to the bar. There they whiled away the hours laughing too hard at their own jokes and poking the local women just to hear them screech.

Frodo sat outside and smoked his pipe. He wasn't thinking of anything in particular but soon found his mind being drawn to the bead in his pocket.

"I suppose I will have to get serious about this whole catastrophe." He thought ruefully. "after all, this thing can spell out doom and destruction for Middle Earth. If it knows how to spell, that is."

It was at this very moment that Pippin poked his head outside and spotted the older hobbit. His countenance brightened considerably. "Frodo, Frodo, Frodo, Frodo!" he chanted, skipping around his cousin.

"What?!" Frodo snapped, a bit miffed at having his train of thought broken. Pippin calmed down instantly, having succeeded in drawing Frodo's attention. 

"I need money for a postcard because the lady there says I can't have one unless I pay for it and I don't have any but you do can I borrow some Frodo please I promise I swear I'll pay you back!"

Frodo rolled his eyes and handed Pippin the contents of his pocket. "Don't hyperventilate or anything, geez."

Pippin was thrilled. "Thanks Frodo! I owe ya, I really do!" and with that he scampered back inside to get his postcard and show that gift shop lady who was boss.

Frodo tried to get his mind on track again but found it too far derailed to run again. Frustrated, he refilled his pipe and wondered what Sam and Merry were up to.

MEANWHILE…

"POKE!"

"'Ey, Watch it, ye bloody lil' dimwit!"

"Oh... sorry sir."

Sam cringed and turned back to his ale, Merry quickly following suite.

"Er..." Merry started.

"No points for that one, I know, I know. My mistake." Sam grumbled.

Merry shook his head. "No, you get points for that one. It was a woman."

Sam started to smile when a large beefy hand grabbed him by the shoulder.

"I was going to say," continued Merry, "that perhaps 'sir' wasn't the right word to use there."

"I see that now." Said Sam, who was being held upside-down by his ankles.

"Do you want to stop playing?" Merry asked, taking a sip of his pint.

"No, that's quite alright." Sam said between dunkings in a keg of beer.

"As long as you think you can go on." Merry's eyes followed Sam's progress as he flew across the bar.

"Oh, I can go on." Sam said, finally being shoved back onto his barstool.

"Another?" Merry offered.

"Please."

MEANWHILE…

Pippin peered over the counter at the cashier lady and poked his postcard closer to her. She peered over her glasses and raised an eyebrow at the hobbit. "That's all?"

Pippin blushed and occupied himself with adjusting his scarf. "Er… yeah. That's all."

"Well, that's hardly worth ringing up at all."

"Really?" Pippin asked, suddenly certain the lady would let him keep the postcard for free.

"Yeah, Really. I think we got a minimum limit here… and you're lucky I didn't already kick you out."

"Kick me out? WHY?" This wasn't going as planned.

The lady pointed at a sign on the wall: "No shoes no shirt no service."

"But I'm a hobbit! I don't ever wear shoes!" Pippin exclaimed.

"That's what I figured, but if you're gonna be a hobbit in here you're gonna buy more than just a postcard.

"…I'm wearing a shirt and a coat and a cloak and a scarf, surely that makes up for it!" Pippin continued.

"JUST GET SOMETHING ELSE!" the lady bellowed, her face turning red.

"Eek! Okay, okay! I'll take this!" Pippin grabbed the closest thing he could reach and slammed it on the counter next to his postcard, along with the contents of Frodo's pocket.

"Much better." She rang up Pippin's purchases and looked through the currency he had put on the counter. Pippin, in the meantime, groaned as he realized he had bought a souvenir miniature bobble head Elvish Pretzel. This wasn't going to help hinder Strider's arrogance.

The cashier lady's eyes suddenly widened as she picked something out of the useless pile from Frodo's pocket. "This should do nicely." She slid the remaining things back to Pippin and pocketed the object.

MEANWHILE…

Frodo's mind had once again wandered back to the bead. He thought back to the time he spent studying it while Gandalf slept in front of the fire. He had made a neat little discovery that he had yet to tell the Jedi. When he dropped the bead and it rolled too close to the fire, it started singing in a terrible falsetto:

One bead to laugh at them all

One bead to trip them

On a string to choke them all

And in the darkness make them...

Sparkly

And it repeated the same song over and over again until Frodo had shoved it into his freezer.

Only more incentive to make it melt in a big pit of hot stuff.

Suddenly Frodo felt an irrepressible urge to look at the bead. He felt around in his pocket and blinked.

"Where… where is… where is that bead? OH NO! PIPPIN!!!" Frodo sprang to his furry feet and bolted to the Inn, hoping beyond hope that he wasn't too late.


	7. In Which Many Things Are Rushed

CHAPTER SEVEN: In Which Many Things Are Rushed

"Pippin!" Frodo shouted, bursting into the Inn.

Luckily for him, Pippin was right there in front of him.

"Frodo!" Pippin shouted. "Here, I have all your stuff, you can have it back."

Frodo fell to his knees, spread his stuff out on the floor, and searched through it with a vigor that surprised Pippin.

"Frodo, I'm hurt! You don't trust that I gave you back every last thing you gave me?"

"Not now, Pippin, I need the bead!"

"You need the bead?" Pippin mused for a moment. "That rhymes!" he concluded mere minutes later.

Of course by then Frodo was in the gift shop, arguing with the cashier about Pippin's payment.

"It's mine, I tell you!" the lady shouted. "That fine little lad with no shoes on gave it to me!"

"Well, I gave it to HIM, and I want it back!"

"Oh, you gave it to him, did you? Well that's a fine tale, but I'm hearing none of it! Unless you got something better than this to trade for it, you aren't getting it back!"

Frodo sputtered. "But it's MINE!" he said lamely.

"Well it's mine now!"

Frodo had no time to come up with a better retort, because before he could do so, he was grabbed from behind by two strong, well-manicured hands. It was Strider. "Quick, get back!" the performer hissed between clenched teeth. He had changed out of his Elfish Pretzel costume and was looking a little more like a real human being.

The two of them got back just in time, for two Wraith-Troopers had found the gift shop and were marching single-mindedly towards the cashier lady.

"It's MINE!" she repeated, challenging them to defy her ownership.

They did.

THUNK! The lady's body landed heavily right by the place where Strider and Frodo were cowering in fear. A small golden bead rolled out of her pocket, and Frodo snatched it up as he and Strider ran for their lives.

As they ran out of the shop, Strider scooped up Pippin, who had just come to the brilliant conclusion that "I need the bead" was—or could be—a couplet. The three of them zoomed through the bar, where Sam and Merry were arguing whether or not waitresses counted as points in their twisted little poking game.

For one second they were all there. The next second, the four hobbits and one man were out in the streets of Brie, hidden in a small horse-drawn cart.

The horse pulling this cart was comprised of a muscle-y warrior-type man named Broomstick and his trusty elven sidekick Logolash. Broomstick pulled the cart, and Logolash clopped two coconut halves together to make horselike noises. They were very good friends, or so it seemed, since they had been working together for such a very long time. They actually hated each other, and called each other spiteful names when they were drunk, such as Leggos, or Logless, and Broomer or Orc Fodder. But at the moment the two weren't bickering, and they managed to pull the travelers a long way before their union forced them to stop and take a break.

And so it was that the one bead of power and its entourage escaped the grasps of the Wraith-Troopers and left Brie.


End file.
